


Requiem for the Forgotten Reality

by supercomputer276



Category: Gregory Horror Show
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercomputer276/pseuds/supercomputer276
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm different from the other guests that have come before me. Why? I've seen the DVDs; I knew what was coming. But now that I look back on my story, I'm not sure just yet if it was all that much of a help... some language, OCxcanon</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Night - Part 1

I know my life is pretty good compared to other people in the world. I have a good home, plenty of food, and a reliable Internet connection. But that doesn’t stop it from being crap all the same.

I am (or rather, I was) a sophomore college student attending a very well-known university. While I was learning lots of interesting things and it didn’t cost me anything from my wallet since my parents were paying my tuition, it was all maddening. I’m a computer junkie, video gamer, and lazy bum that has trouble paying attention. I’m not saying I’m worthless; I’m good at drawing pictures and writing stories, as well as computer programming. But I just can’t seem to be able to use my talents to do my schoolwork. My dad says being a student is my full-time job in order to get me to do my schoolwork, but it’s not much of an incentive. The pay is non-existent, the paperwork is massive, the bosses are uncaring, the hours are long, the commute is terrible, and I had to buy my own office supplies.

Even now, I am unsure of whether what has happened is a blessing or a curse.

On a few days, I had to catch a night bus back home due to the late-ness of my last class. I hadn’t been getting much sleep lately and today I found particularly exhausting. During the wait for the buss, I almost nodded off more than a few times. By the time the bus arrived, I almost dropped off right then and there. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), I got on the bus before falling asleep; there were substantially less people riding the bus than usual, so I was free to lay down. I took about four seats counting my large backpack.

I don’t know how long I was asleep, but it was for a long time since I felt mostly rested when I woke up. As the wake-up fog lifted the first thing I noticed was that the bus was very nearly empty. The only souls aboard were, besides myself, the bus driver and two others sitting on the other side of the bus and several seats down. Very peculiar others at that, as well as faintly familiar for some then-unknown reason. One was a rather large peach-furred dog in an angle costume, sans the halo but with large feathery wings, and carrying a star-tipped wand. The other appeared to be a cabinet with feet wearing a crown; there were red gems embedded in the corners and words written around the frame: “PRESENT,” “FUTURE,” “FALSE,” and “TRUTH.”

The next thing I noticed, and this caused me no small amount of worry, was what was outside the windows. Instead of the usual small city buildings I saw on my way home, it was nothing but a dark creepy forest shrouded in a light fog. It too seemed familiar, but I could not recall from where I had previously seen it.

I checked the watch on my left wrist. It was a few minutes shy of eleven o’clock. I was usually home by eight; my parents were gonna kill me when I got home.

_If_ I got home…

I shook my head. Where did that thought come from? I’m still not quite sure.

About then, I was distracted from my surroundings by a conversation between the two other passengers. Having nothing else to do, I decided to listen in.

“I don’t know about you,” the dog said to the cabinet in a friendly, feminine, slightly teenager-ish voice, “but I had a pretty good vacation.”

“Me too,” the cabinet replied in the voice of a middle-aged male. “It’s still nice to return home, though. What did you do during your vacation?”

“Oh, just my usual stuff,” the dog replied with a slight giggle. “Hey I think my hair got a little messed up. May I?” Her paw extended halfway to the cabinet’s handles.

“Be my guest,” the cabinet replied, turning to face her.

She grabbed the right handle and swung that side open. I leaned forward to see the only thing behind the door was a large mirror. The dog was checking her reflection in it, or what was certainly acting like it. The dog in the mirror had blue fur, a purple gown, a mean expression, bat wings, and a pitchfork. The dog in the bus didn’t seem to mind or possibly notice as she fiddled with the long purple hair on her head. When she was satisfied with her appearance, she nodded to her “reflection” and closed the door. “Thanks!”

“Anytime,” the cabinet said as it turned back.

“So whad’d you do for your vacation?”

The cabinet sighed. “I forgot the mirrors in the real world aren’t magical, so I ended up doing community service after wrecking half a mirror shop.”

The dog emitted a small laugh. “Oh Gregory’s gonna have a real fit when he hears about that!”

Gregory? I didn’t know a Gregory, but it did seem familiar as well. What was with everything? Why do I feel like I’ve seen them all before?

My wondering was again interrupted, this time by the decelerating motion of the bus. I braced myself for the movement; I had about a year’s worth of experience riding public buses and managed to greatly reduce the recoil from inertia.

“Last stop,” the bus driver said in a deep and somewhat creepy voice as both the front and back doors slid open. “Everybody off.”

The wings on the dog started flapping and she started hovering in the air, while the cabinet just hopped to the floor. “Well let’s get going!” the dog said to her companion. He nodded (with his whole body, no less) and they both left through the back door. I noticed he had to hop down to the ground.

It was quiet for a while as I stood up and got my backpack on. Then the dog peeked her head in and looked right at me. “Well c’mon! What’re you waiting for?” she said to me before pulling back out.

It took a few seconds before I got over my initial surprise and followed them off the bus. As soon as I got off, the bus closed its doors and drove off into the night, leaving me with a flying dog and a talking cabinet on the side of a large dirt road with only a single dirt path leading off into the depths of the forest.

I looked back where the bus had disappeared. “Um… There wouldn’t happen to be a northbound coming soon, would there?” I asked the two with me. “I think I missed my stop.” I turned to look back the way I came. “By about _half a continent._ ”

“Sorry,” the dog replied sweetly. “Buses don’t go that way very often.”

“Borderline never, I say,” the cabinet added.

“Looks like you’re stuck here for a while,” the dog concluded.

Well shoot. Stranded out in the middle of nowhere. Just perfect. A cool breeze scraped my skin and I realized how cold it was. “There has to be somewhere to go, otherwise there wouldn’t be a bus stop,” I reasoned, rubbing my arms to keep warm. “You guys wouldn’t happen to know a place I could hang out till the bus comes?”

“Sure; you could stay with us!” the dog replied cheerfully. “We live in a hotel at the end of this path here. See, there’s a sign there!”

I looked where she pointed with her wand and saw the long wooden pole that marked the bus stop. Two pieces of what looked like driftwood were nailed to it. The upper board displayed the route number, 57. The lower sign was pointed at one end, pointing out the path, and painted on it in shimmering black were the words, “GREGORY HOUSE.”

Then it hit me. Everything looked familiar because I had seen it on a DVD only a few weeks prior.

This spooky forest.

Angel Dog. Devil Dog.

Mirror Man.

Gregory House.

“…oh crap.”


	2. The First Night - Part 2

For a while, all I could think about was how much trouble I was in. I had stumbled into the world of the Gregory Horror Show. The only shelter for miles would be Gregory House, a cursed hotel of lunatics that did very dangerous things to other guests. Some of those things, such as Catherine’s needle, were some of my worst fears. Understandably, I knew I was, to put it mildly, doomed.

When my senses came back, Angel Dog and Mirror Man were scooting me along the path. Things were still a little groggy and I moaned trying to ask what was going on.

“Are you all right?” Angel Dog’s voice asked. “You were out of it for awhile.”

All I could do was stutter. “G-G G G-G-G G-G…”

“I think he’s _still_ out of it,” Mirror Man suggested.

“Strange…” Angel Dog noted. “They usually don’t start babbling until after a few days.”

I knew what was happening around me, but flashes of the potential horrors I would face once in the hotel kept freaking me out and distracting me. How does the condemned man feel, facing the firing squad, especially when the firing squad had a giant needle, a bloody carving knife, and a pistol that never hit its intended target, not to mention everything else the residents had at their disposal?

During this time, they kept moving me along the path like they were hauling a statue on wheels. It wasn’t long before the path widened into the graveyard that served as the front yard and eventually the huge looming hotel itself. Dagnabbit, knowing what was coming did not help the matter at _all_.

I tried to shake off those dark feelings as I approached the threshold. Angel Dog pulled open the green wooden double doors. “Well? You coming in, or not?”

My voice was slowly coming back. “Y-Yeah… Just… Justgimme a min, OK?” I took several deep breaths, trying to gather my nerves and forget about the living hell within (if only for the moment). Not an easy task, for sure. Once I felt I was ready enough, I stepped through. Mirror Man and Angel Dog followed behind me and shut the doors behind them.

Well. So far so good.

The small lobby was about the same as I saw on the DVD. “Gregory!” Angel Dog called out to the rest of the house. “We’re ba-ack!”

“Oh great…” a familiar voice moaned. Shuffled footsteps sounded from the hallway beyond the next door. I knew that was Gregory, the propi… propret… owner of the hotel. “Why did that stupid dog have to come back…?” his voice faintly muttered.

“I heard that!” Angel Dog shouted back angrily. I noticed that Mirror Man seemed bored of the whole affair. I suspected he would’ve left had he no need to check in.

The old mouse walked into view, carrying a lit candle in his paw. “I don’t care if you heard it, you’re lucky I-“ He looked up and saw me. “Why, who’s this?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Angel Dog replied.

“He was asleep on the bus when we got on,” Mirror Man added.

“Really now?” Gregory continued. He walked past them and up to me. “Is this true?”

“Um uh, yeah,” I got out. Even though he was acting friendly enough, his face was still creepy, even moreso in real life. “I need a place to crash until I can catch a northbound home.”

“Is that so?” Gregory said with his trademark chuckle. Hearing it for real gave me goosebumps. “Well lucky you we just so happen to have a room available right now. I’m sure it’ll do for you until it is time.” He made his way behind the front desk and put on a pair of reading glasses. “You two can return to your rooms,” he said to Angel Dog and Mirror Man. “I’ll take care of our new guest.”

“See you later!” Angel Dog chimed to me as she and Mirror Man exited into the hallway and disappeared from my sight. I wondered what she meant by that.

“Now then,” Gregory continued as he opened up a notebook I guessed was the guest registry. “I’m going to need to see some photo identification.”

Photo ID? News to me. “Sure, gimme a few secs,” I replied as I pulled out my wallet. I quickly fished out my student ID card and passed it to the old mouse.

“Oh my, a college student,” Gregory said upon looking over my card.

“What, something wrong?” I asked.

“Oh no, not at all,” he replied. “We just don’t normally get very many guests at such a young age. I assume the workload at the university is rather excessive for your tastes?”

I glanced at the overstuffed backpack I was wearing. “Oh yeah.”

He chuckled again as he gave me my ID card back and wrote some things down in the registry. While waiting, I replaced the card in my wallet and repocketed it.

“Everything’s set,” Gregory announced as he closed the book and took off the glasses. He picked up the candle and the key ring on the wall peg. “Come, my friend, I’ll show you to your room.”

For a moment I wondered why he didn’t refer to me by my name, which he knew since it was on my ID, but I didn’t voice my concerns as I followed him into the hallway.

Gregory headed up the flight of stairs past the hallway door. I started to follow him when I heard a voice down the hall, coming closer. I took cover against the edge of the stairwell as best I could and listened.

“ _Do you know, who I am? They call me Judgment Boy…_ ”

I kept still until I saw the giant scale move past. I don’t think he saw me, but I cannot be sure; he might have seen me out of the corner of his eye and decided to keep on going. After his singing faded into the distance, I hurried up the stairs. Once up, I looked around for Gregory. He was right down the hall.

“There you are,” he said as I jogged up. “I was afraid I lost you back there.” That darn chuckle again. I was starting to hate it. “Anyway, here is your room. Do make yourself comfortable.”

I looked at the room number. 205. I shouldn’t have expected otherwise. “Thank you,” I said as I entered.

“It’s very late,” Gregory suggested. “Why don’t you get some rest?” He closed the door, and his footsteps signaled his departure.

Sleep now? Pfft. I’m an owl (metaphorically). I can stay up pretty dang late. I took my backpack off and left it leaning against the bedpost before I headed out into the hallway.

So what if I was doomed? Doesn’t mean I can’t try to have a blast in the meantime.


	3. The First Night - Part 3

The first thing I noticed as I exited the room was the padlocked metal door next to mine, numbered 203, and the faint howling voices from within. However, I didn’t feel enough in the mood to talk with Neko Zombie quite yet. Instead I walked past it, looking for something interesting to happen.

The hallway seemed abandoned, so I kept on walking. After some time, a tune came to my head, one of the many pieces of video game music I remembered. I started humming it. “Hm. Hm-hmmm-hm hm. Hm. Hm. Hm-hmmmm-hm hm. Hm.” The name of the game eludes me now, but I believe it was something to do with a haunted mansion and a little green man with a vacuum cleaner. Perhaps you might remember it. Either way, it seemed to be an appropriate background track.

“Do do-do-do do-do-doooo-do,” I resumed my humming as I rounded a corner. “Do-do-do do-do-dooo do-do do. Do-do-do do-do-do do… hm hm hm. Do-do-do do-do do-do-do-do-do.” And then the entire thing started over again.

I took this time to look around. It looked like all the other hallways, but none of the numbers on the doors were the right numbers. And I was pretty sure I had taken a few turns, but my humming had distracted me and I had forgotten what the turns were, which didn’t help since my memory was already pretty sketchy even before I got here.

Brilliant. I was lost already.

I kept going until I came to what looked like a four-way intersection. Even though there was candlelight, darkness cloaked the corridors a few feet past my face. Maybe if Gregory had started taking money off his guests, he could probably afford some electric lighting. I made a mental note to tell the old mouse the next time I saw him and hoped my memory wouldn’t fail me again.

From the corridor to my right, a sound. Sliding metal. Glowing dots of pink and yellow. A voice.

“ _Do you know, who I am? They call me Judgment Boy…_ ”

Like I needed an introduction.

I turned to face the large scale and waited patiently as he slid into view. Might as well get it over with.

“ _Do you know, who I am? I am Judgment Boy!_ JUUUUUUUDGE-MENT!” With his unique cry he came to a halt before me.

I looked up at him. Just as red and yellow as I remembered him from the DVDs, although he was slightly bigger than I thought he would be.

There was a tense silence for a few moments as we sized each other up. It was broken when he finally spoke.

“You are in the second grade. You and your friend are playing inside during recess. SMASH! Your teacher’s prized vase is knocked over and shatters to pieces. At that moment, the teacher walks in. So, what will you do?”

I recognized this question from the DVD; he had asked this same question once of the guest that became Stephen Haniwa Salaryman, more or less. I thought carefully for a while until I realized something.

“I’m afraid that I cannot give you an informed answer,” I told him.

“Is that so?” he asked.

“You have failed to specify who was at fault for causing the vase to fall,” I explained. “Excluding the possibility of a third party, knowing whose fault it was is a vital point in the choice. If I decide to be honest and my friend is the one at fault, for example, then it would result in me blaming my friend, which would make me a tattletale. However, if I have to take action, I suppose I would explain to the teacher what happened without blaming anybody, and assist in trying to logically find out who did it. And if it turns out it was me, so be it.”

Man, could I be wordy sometimes.

“Hm… a most complex answer,” Judgment Boy concluded. “But I see. You say you wouldn’t accuse either of you for the falling vase.”

“You got it,” I confirmed.

“Well _I_ say we consult the Balance of Truth!”

Saw that coming. _Any_ one that knew anything about the show saw that coming.

He started to lean back and forth. “If you try to weigh your money against your love, there is no doubt that your heart will start to sway. If you try to weigh your love against your money, your heart will start to break.”

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes as I grunted with annoyance. Already I was starting to feel bored. Couldn’t this guy just drop the dang heart and get this over with already?

“JUDGMENT…” he cried as he spun around a few times before stopping. “Now!” The floor of the cage holding the heart popped open and the glass bauble fell to the floor and shattered into pieces.

“You deny breaking the vase, leaving the teacher little choice but to blame your friend,” he concluded. “He is punished with detention and grows to resent you, resulting in you losing virtually all chance of gaining any other friends lest the others face his wrath. By not taking action, you have only made your own life worse. It was your choice; now you have to live with it.”

All things considered, it wasn’t too bad, I guess. At least it wasn’t as bad as what Haniwa got.

Judgment Boy turned away and started to leave, leaning on the nugget in the other cage. From what I remembered, the Judgment Factory wasn’t all that far from my room, so being lost I followed from a distance. I could tolerate that repeating tune until I got back.

And boy, did he repeat it! “ _Do you know, who I am? They call me Judgment Boy. Do you know, who I am? They call me Judgment Boy._ ” _Man_ , does he ever shut up?! It’s a little catchy, I admit, but it’s annoying the first several times or so.

After several moments of moving down the corridors, taking a few turns along the way, he stopped singing. “Why are you following me?” he asked, still moving. “I’ve already judged you.”

“I got a little lost, and you know your way around,” I replied. “Seems logical enough to me to follow you until I get back to familiar enough territory.”

“Hm. I see,” he replied back.

There was silence for a while as we continued along the maze of hallways until I spoke up again. “Y’know, I actually came up with my own hypothetical situation and question along the lines of yours.” I had, actually; I had run a Gregory Horror Show-based forum RPG at one time (although the name of the forum that I ran it on has escaped me) and came up with a question for when Judgment Boy appeared then.

“Really?” he replied.

“You wanna hear it?”

“…I suppose. Judgment Boy Gold might find it interesting. Shoot.”

“OK, here goes.” I cleared my throat. “You and a close friend are competing in a race against another couple up a snowy mountain to a temple at the top, where a fabulous treasure awaits. However, only the team that gets to the top first gets the treasure, and you are behind for most of the race. As both teams approach the peak, a large blizzard blows over the mountain and the winds cause your friend to slip and fall, hitting his or her head on the rocks and falling unconscious. In the current weather, he or she is minutes from death. You have a first aid kit in your knapsack that will allow you to save your friend, but if you go on ahead without him or her, you will be able to pass the other team. So! Do you continue on and win the race, or stay behind and save your friend?”

There were a few moments of silence, and I was afraid he had ignored me. Finally, he spoke. “…Not bad. It’s a little long though.”

“I wanted to make sure the questionee wouldn’t be able to worm their way out,” I explained.

“Like you did with _my_ question?”

“…I suppose so, yes.”

“Still, I’m sure Judgment Boy Gold would love to hear it. I’ll be sure to pass it on.”

“Thank you.”

It was silent the rest of the way until we reached the Judgment Factory door. A short distance beyond it, I saw the stairway that was near the lobby; I knew my room was not far from here. “Thanks for letting me follow.”

“It was the least I could do,” Judgment Boy replied as he seemingly flew straight up and through the ceiling.

I watched him as he disappeared... and when I looked back in a forward direction, Gregory was standing there, candle in hand.

“My friend, it's very late,” he spoke. “What are you doing up?”

“I took a little walk,” I replied. That was true enough.

I was starting to walk past him when he blocked me. “Actually, it's quite convenient for me,” he said. “I have something to discuss with you.”

“What is it?” I asked, wearied. “I need to catch a few Zs.”

“Your unnatural confidence, like you know about everything here.”

“...Pardon?”

“There's no use trying to hide it from me, my friend. I know you know more about this hotel than you're letting on.”

“Oh really?” I toyed.

“Really,” Gregory replied, circling around me like a hungry vulture, only walking instead of flying. “Many guests have come to this hotel over the years, lost and wandering, but they all had a certain thing in common, a certain action they all performed, something that you didn't do.”

“And that would be...?” Seriously, at the time, I didn't know.

“They all attempted to pay for their stay using money. You, however, did not.”

“I've been near broke these past few days; don't exactly have a lot to go around. Besides, if I'm here, I've already paid for my room well in advance, right?”

“That's right.” He stopped walking. He was just off being right in front of me as he turned his head to face me. “Which brings me to the question, how do you know that?”

…crap. Cornered.

“I can see it your face... You know much about Gregory House already, about the residents, and my goals. But how did you come across this information? I doubt the half a handful of those that have managed to escape lived anywhere near you used to live.”

“'Used to?' You think you've won already?”

“I rarely lose,” he replied with a chuckle.

To this day, I'm not sure exactly why, but I decided to let it out right then and there. “Tell me, Gregory,” I started, “does the name 'Naomi Iwata' mean anything to you?”

“Naomi Iwata... Hm... Ah yes, I remember him. A nice young man, of Japanese descent I believe. I remember him so well because he was the first person to ever successfully return to reality after coming here.”

“Apparently, he decided not to keep it a secret from the world,” I continued. “He created a computer-graphic anime show that depicts this very world, so far almost exactly as I've seen it. I happen to own all the DVDs and have seen every episode. Satisfied?”

“...Yes. Quite.” He turned and started to walk away, but stopped after a few seconds and looked over his shoulder at me. “But let me warn you, my friend,” he said cryptically, “those DVDs of yours will only cover so much... There's no guarantee that what you saw will be all you see...”

With a chuckle, he turned away again and left, fading away into the darkness of the hallway.


	4. The First Night - Part 4

While I was in my room after that moment, my stomach rumbled, and I figured I'd grab a quick something to eat before I hit the hay. I was walking down the hall near my room with this goal in mind when I came across something interesting. On my right side, in a small notch in the wall I hadn't noticed before, was what appeared to be a vending machine.

Now when did that get there? ...And since when did this place have electricity? Sure, there were some mechanical machines and electrical lights in the hotel, but from what I could recall they were only in the shaft between Gregory Mama's room and the safe room deep below the hotel.

I was thinking how I had never recalled a vending machine inside this hotel when Gregory's voice from moments ago echoed in my mind. “ _But let me warn you, my friend, those DVDs of yours will only cover so much... There's no guarantee that what you saw will be all you see...”_

Was this one of those things that was present in this purgatory world that wasn't on the DVDs? I wondered.

I looked over at the selection through the glass. There were very many varieties of candy and snack food in the machine. Several I recognized, such as Snickers, M&Ms, and my favorite, Butterfingers. The others were mysteries to me, but seemed to be themed around guests of the hotel; among the selection was “Catherine's Strawberry-Filled Hearts,” “Neko Zombie's Favorite Chocolate,” and “Angel Dog's Devil's Food Cake.” I wondered why there would be foods themed around residents Gregory despised, especially Neko Zombie.

In the mood for a little midnight snack, I decided to stick with tried and true and buy a Butterfingers. I pulled a dollar out of my wallet and slipped into the feed slot on the machine, then pressed in the number for the Butterfingers.

That's where everything went wrong. I heard whirring and the sound of a thunk as my purchase fell into the slot on the bottom of the machine, but nothing in the window moved. Examining the display closely, I found a shocking surprise: a corner of the “display” was peeled away from the glass slightly.

The candy I saw was only a poster pasted behind the glass.

_But if it's a fake..._ I thought with horror,  _then what the hell did I just buy?!_

Suddenly, a large tentacle that looked like a red octopus's emerged from the grab slot and wrapped around my left arm before I could react. With a thrust, it started to pull me towards towards the vending machine. Looking into the grab slot, it was being held open by another tentacle and inside the darkness of the slot was a mouth where the only thing visible were shiny white pointed gnashing teeth.

“GAH! Let go! I'm no snack!!” I cried as I tried to pull away from the mouth of the machine. But _man_ , that was one strong tentacle, and slowly I was being dragged toward the slot. I used my free arm to pound on the tentacle with my fist in an attempt to get it to loosen its killer grip.

After several tries to no avail, I threw all of my available strength and slammed down on it. Apparently that did something, as it flinched and weakened its grip. Quickly I pulled my arm out and stumbled backwards, away from the monster machine. The tentacle moved toward me, but it stopped a few inches short of my foot. It waved and strained toward me, but it seemed to be at the end of its reach. After several moments it eventually pulled back into the grab slot. The slot's hatch slammed shut, and all was still yet again.

It was here I realized how heavy I was breathing, how on edge I was. I could've bleepin' died right then and there. I was scared. Scared for my life. Was this how the Guests felt, running into the hotel's residents? Scared for their lives?

“Are you alright?”

“YAH!” I jumped so hard from surprise, I fell on my side. I quickly recovered and turned to see Gregory of all people.

“I take it our vending machine has given you a little trouble?”

“A _little_?!” I spit out. “It tried to eat me!”

“Tried to eat you?” he replied. “My friend, that is easily avoided.”

With that, he pulled out his own dollar bill and inserted it into the machine. He punched in a selection. There was a whir and a thunk, and then to my surprise, the grab slot opened and spit a bag labeled “Gregory's Specialty Cheese Puffs”out, which arched through the air to land safely in Gregory's waiting paws.

“See?” he said. “Perfectly safe. This machine can produce these kinds of foods easily all by itself, but it doesn't know how to make anything from the other side. So when someone asks it to, it becomes nervous. And it get hungry when it's nervous.”

He pulled the bag open. “There are times when the familiar can be dangerous,” he said. “When it does...” He paused as he chomped down a cheese puff. “...one must turn to the unfamiliar and hope for the best. Not that there's much hope around here.” He turned away and chuckled as he walked off, nibbling on his snacks along the way.

Eventually, I recovered my nerves enough to stand up. It was another several moments before I approached the machine warily. Nothing happened as I inserted another dollar. After looking over the selection of foods that were not from reality, I decided on the Devil's Food Cake and pushed the appropriate buttons. A whir and a thunk, and just like with Gregory minutes ago, the wrapped treat was spit out of the machine right into my hands.

Much better.

After looking over the ingredients to make sure it wasn't poisoned, I gave a nod to the machine as I headed off, unwrapping the small chocolate cake and munching away as I headed back to my room to get a well-deserved sleep.

I swear, it nodded back.


	5. The Second Night - Part 1

I don't remember my dreams from that first night. Then again, as far as I can remember, only on very rare occasions do I remember my dreams for so long afterward. Only one do I remember, and it inspired a story I once tried to write. However, even it has begun to fade.

But I digress. Given how late I had gone to bed the previous night, it was not surprising that I woke up late in the morning, almost at nine-thirty according to my watch. I had placed it on the small table in my room before I went to bed, alongside my wallet and...

My cell phone was missing.

Gregory really seemed to be pulling out all the stops this time.

However, I decided might as well see if it didn't just fall off the table anyways. Just to be sure.

Since I naturally didn't pack a spare set of clothes in my school backpack, I had slept in the clothes I arrived in, so I didn't have to get out of any jammies once I got myself out of bed. I quickly got down on all fours and looked under the table. Aside from a thin layer of dust under it, I found nothing. I checked under the bed next, with the same results. Next I checked inside the small trash can beside the table, thinking it may have fallen in there; no dice. Finally, even thought it was a bit of a stretch, I looked underneath and inside the wardrobe. Predictably, it wasn't there either.

Just then, I heard a faint noise coming from Neko Zombie's cell beside my room.

It sounded like... munching.

_He didn't...?_

Not even bothering to put my shoes on (who sleeps in their shoes, really?), I ran out of my room and over to the large metal door to room 203. Putting my ear to the door... yes, the munching was definitely coming from there. I peeked through the keyhole and I saw the poor brown-and-white stitched creature, still wearing that red-and-blue striped shirt and dirty tan pants he was in on the DVDs, and he was holding something small and black in his hands and nibbling furiously away at it. Pulling away, I saw the door's meal slot, just tall enough to fit a cell phone through.

“He did...” I muttered to myself, my palm flying to my face.

Apparently the starved cat on the other side heard the resulting slapping sound, because next thing I knew, there was a loud slam from the door like someone had pounced right into it. I yelped, startled, and fell back onto my behind. That sure was happening a lot lately. The sound repeated itself, although not nearly with as much intensity, as Neko Zombie threw himself against the door repeatedly.

I decided to return to my room before Gregory could find me here, and quickly got to my feet and did so, shutting the door firmly but not slamming it behind me.

As I got my shoes on, pocketed my wallet, and snapped on my watch, I heard banging against the metal door and Gregory faintly shouting. “Be quiet! I already fed you, you stupid cat!” After Neko Zombie's cried had muted some, I heard Gregory's footfalls, and they seemed to be getting a little louder.

The door opened a little and Gregory peeked his head in. “Ah, you're up at last, my friend,” he said to me. “I was almost afraid you wouldn't. Heh-heh-heh.” Oh, that chuckle. “I certainly hope your neighbor didn't wake you up.”

“No no, I woke up a little earlier than that,” I replied.

“Ah, that's good then,” he continued. “Do feel free to call for me if you ever lose yourself.” I could hear him chuckle again as he gently closed the door.

That rat is the master of the double entendre, I tell ya.

After I got my shoes on my feet, my watch on my wrist, my wallet (thankfully untouched) in my pocket, and my backpack stashed under the bed (as a precaution), it finally stuck me that I've never seen the world of the hotel during the day except for moments of twilight. I glanced over to the small window on the wall opposite the door, which was currently closed.

What _was_ daylight like around here? I decided to find out. I walked over and reached my hand out to the small handle on the shutter.

That's about when my door exploded behind me.

I was quick to turn around. My room's door was broken into splinters and broken planks scattered about the floor. I thought I could see the 2 of my room number among them. But what drew my attention was the figure that now stood in my doorway. He was fairly short, but his skin was green and he wore a large sombrero and Mexican serape. Oh yeah, and there was also these holsters at his sides that held small handguns, and the sash of long machine gun bullets around his torso.

“'Ey, _amigo_ ,” he said to me with a Mexican accent. “Long time no see.”

“Indeed, Cactus Gunman, indeed,” I replied. Another character from the show. Although you might have already known that; he popped up in every season.

“Ho ho ho,” he chuckled as he slowly walked into the room. “Let's 'ead over to the bar and catch up on old times over some tequeela.”

I can't remember the numbers, but if I recall correctly I was a year or two too young to drink alcohol. “Um, sorry Gunman, but I don't drink.”

“ _Don't dreenk?!_ ” he exclaimed. “Ai yi yi! What ees the matter with you? We duel!”

Of course.

He pulled out one of his guns and tossed it into my hands. I shouldn't have been surprised that I didn't find a safety on it upon a preliminary inspection; this was twofold, since for one, there wasn't one, and two, I wouldn't know where the safety on a gun was in the first place; this was the only time in my life I've ever held a firearm.

“Eet is far too cramped in here,” the Gunman proclaimed. “We shall duel en the hallway!”

“Fine by me,” I replied.

He was beginning to walk out when Gregory _just so happened_ to be walking by. “Oh my, this situation certainly seems familiar,” he commented with a chuckle. “Oh how I envy the carelessness of youth. Gentlemen, it would be an honor to serve as your witness.”

Despite the enthusiasm of my opponent, I was starting to get a little bored. Gregory's line almost sounded rehearsed. And why shouldn't it have? This was playing out much like the show; eerily well, in fact.

I know it was after I left my room and before I turned around, though I can't remember the exact point, when the scenery seemed to change around me. The Gunman, Gregory, and I were standing in the middle of an old-timey Western main street. Wooden buildings lined the sides, looking exactly what you'd think a Western town looked like... and exactly how I remember it from the Gunman's episode. The cactus himself stood ready further down the street. He stared me down rather well for being not that much taller than me; I tried my best to return the favor, clutching the pistol in my right hand as I lacked a holster (apparently, he was OK with the handicap). Judging from the shadows, it was high noon. Not that I thought it mattered whose eyes the sun got in.

Gregory stood to the side in a dapper black suit, next to a coffin in front of the undertaker's place, holding a golden coin in his hand. “I'm sure reciting the rules are a formality at this point. You may fire as soon as this coin hits the ground.”

I remained silent as I heard the coin begin its flip into the air. If I had any worry in me, I don't remember any of it. Cactus Gunman's whole shtick was his inability to hit the target he was aiming for. At worst, I figured he would get the bullet to just skim me and get me to jump a little; at best, he'd hit Gregory again. I'd probably find the image especially amusing in person. Just a few more seconds for them both to run off, with Gregory likely pursuing the Gunman with that randomly-appearing shotgun, and then I could get a proper start to the day that didn't involve dueling cacti and phone-eating cats.

Then suddenly Gregory spoke something that shook me up. “That smirk on your face, my friend. You believe you know for sure where this path leads? You think you know everything, and yet you know nothing, because since you think you know everything... you don't bother to _learn_.”

The clink of the coin; I raised my arm. A bang. A sudden pain right in the middle of my stomach. Eyes wide and with a gasp, I collapsed in a heap on the floor.

The last thing I remember before blacking out was Cactus Gunman dropping his other pistol and running away hysterically shouting, “Aiaiaiaiai! I'd deedn't think I'd actually _heet_ heem!”


	6. The Second Night - Part 2

Predictability.

We all depend on it in in some form or another. Me, especially. For most of my human existence, I've relied on finding patterns and using the information they provide in order to get by. The familiarity of following a pattern, a routine... It's comforting.

But certainty... Certainty is impossible, plain and simple. Nothing is a hundred-percent certain.

Not even missing a target.

He broke the pattern, and I certainly felt the results. Did Gregory somehow set me up? If he did, he managed to turn my knowledge of the show on me rather quickly. Something to watch out for.

Some old guy, I think his name was Ben something, once said, “Nothing can be certain except death and taxes,” something like that. I thoroughly disagree. Taxes are not certain if you do not live in a society that requires them. And the fact that I'm not dead after that showdown is casting doubt on the certainty of death right now. But then again, he probably wasn't referring to purgatory when he said it. But I digress; I seem to make a habit of that.

When I recovered consciousness, I was looking up at an offwhite ceiling. As my senses came back into play, I found I was lying down on a padded surface, with a pillow under my head and a blanket over my body; a bed, I concluded. I felt weak, and the front of my stomach was hurting like the dickens (whatever that means). I could actually feel a slight chunk of me was missing; it was a very unsettling feeling, and that is not a feeling you want just after waking up.

I let out a moan; involuntarily, probably due to the pain. That alerted someone else in the room.

“Oh good, you're finally awake!”

The first thing I noticed was that the voice was male. Although I wouldn't know just why until a few seconds later, this gave me a good amount of relief.

I turned my head to look at him as the figure who spoke came up to my bed. He looked like a blue patchwork Frankenstein's monster in glasses and a doctor's coat, carrying a clipboard. I also managed to see a counter across the room holding several specific supplies and the black-and-white checker-tiled floor. Only one room I knew of in Gregory House had this décor, and only one resident looked like that.

“It's a good thing the manager brought you in when he did,” Dr. Fritz spoke as he looked over the clipboard's contents. “I managed to dress up your wound before it got infected. Thankfully, the bullet was dull and your stomach fat was large enough to keep it from piercing anything vital. Oh, no offense, of course.”

I could feel something surrounding the point of pain on my stomach that reminded me of... whatever the heck everyone called adhesive bandages, but I dared not touch to find out any details. “It's alright,” I replied, my throat feeling a little dry and my voice sounding a little weak, to be expected after being punched in the gut. “How long have I been out...?”

“Only a few hours,” the doctor replied, pointing over his shoulder to a clock on the wall nearby. It wasn't long past noon. It occurred to me that I had missed breakfast; hopefully, the Chef wouldn't mind too much that I was too busy being unconscious to attend. My stomach growled; my load groan joined it as the vibration aggravated my wound.

“Thankfully, you seem to be healing alright,” he continued as he jotted down some notes on the clipboard with a pen. “You're still going to need to lie down for a while though; if you juggle it too much, you'll break the bandage. Try not to breathe out too hard either. Is that all right?”

“Yeah,” I replied. I wasn't all that fond of having to wait for my injury to finish healing, especially since my backpack was still in my room. At least, it was when I last saw it; with Gregory having copies of every key here, there was no telling what he or any other residents he let in would do with it.

Oh right, Cactus Gunman destroyed my door. That was just brilliant.

“I'm going to be taking care of some paperwork,” the doctor told me. “Let me know if you need anything.”

I gave him a nod and he moved away, sitting at the nearby desk and writing something, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Testing out my arms and legs to make sure they were still working properly (which they were) only lasted me a half-minute before I started an internal monologue for lack of anything else to do.

How long was I going to be here? How many other guests knew I was in here, laying helpless? I really hope they left that backpack alone; I tend to get oversensitive about my possessions, I've found. It occurred to me to check my pockets, easily done with a few quick pats over them. Good, my wallet was still there and I could feel my watch still on my wrist, so the doctor didn't remove anything while he patched me up. How did he turn out to be more or less a nice guy in this mad hotel, I wonder? I mean, statistically it has to happen sometimes, but what were the odds he'd come in as a doctor that proved to be a more pleasant alternative to Catherine in that he didn't drain your body of blood just because he couldn't control his base impulses? I wonder what he was like back in reality that resulted in the lovable coward he was now. Maybe his nervous nature jeopardized his medical career or something. I figured the mere fact of insanity, a reasonable assumption in this world, was the only thing that kept him from going mad given how much his personality clashed with the general setting. Could you actually go mad when you were already mad? Is that even possible? I wonder what that would be like, going double-mad. At least I'd call it double-mad. Maybe mad-squared would be more appropriate actually, since it'd be the original insanity times the new insanity _DEAR GOD IT IS SO FREAKIN' BORING JUST LYING HERE ALL DAY. HEAL UP ALREADY YOU STUPID BULLET WOUND I'M GOING STIR-CRAZY HERE._

Suddenly, the door burst open, and in ran in a kid-sized mouse with blonde hair and a red-and-yellow striped shirt. Someone I was really hoping wouldn't show up.

“Doctor! Doctor!” James was shouting as he ran up to the just-jumped-in-his-chair-from-the-surprise Dr. Fritz. “There's been an emergency! You gotta come! Right away!” He was panting, as if out of breath.

Fritz, ever the professional, was on his feet in an instant. “What happened, James?”

The kid was still panting heavily “Grandpa... In the library... Bookcase... Hurry...!”

“Oh dear, not again!” Fritz muttered loudly as he got up and grabbed the first-aid kit that sat on one counter of the desk. “I keep telling him to get those things anchored, but does he ever listen? Just hang tight,” he said to me. “I'll be back in a moment.” With that, he hurried out of the room.

After a few moments, James stopped panting, grinned, and let off a little chuckle before sticking his head out the door. “It's all clear!” he shouted to the hallway.

The little _scamp_. Fritz probably went along with it anyway in case he wasn't lying. The main thing I was worried about was what was with the shouting about it being clear...?

And then she entered. A pink purple-spotted noticeably female lizard in a nurse's uniform.

Oh merciful god, _not her...!_

“Why hello there~” Catherine spoke in what I assume, after filtering out my immediate panic attack, was a flirtatious tone. “I can't believe you're still alive after actually managing to get hit by one of that gunman's bullets. You must have an incredibly strong body~”

NO I DON'T NO I DON'T NO I DON'T I'M HORRIBLY OUT OF SHAPE GO AWAY CATHERINE

“Hey, lady!” James quickly diverted Catherine's attention away from me. “Keep your promise!”

“Alright, James, just hang on,” she replied as she went fishing in one of the pockets of her nurse's uniform. After a little rustle, she produced what appeared to be a live beetle tied to a white string. “Here you go.”

“Oh wow, cool!” he chirped (which seemed very unlike him) and he quickly took it and left the room to find someplace else to play with his new toy, laughing all the way.

Catherine turned around to face me. “Well, since the doctor's out,” she said in a way that reminded me of an evil mastermind bragging his evil plan, “looks like _I'll_ be taking care of you for awhile~” She moved over to a rack of massive needles on the wall and plucked one of the bigger ones off. “Now, time to take a blood sample~”

In retrospect, thank god three to four hours is not enough time for muscles to properly atrophy.

It would be later that I would reflect on why I didn't see what I did just then on the DVDs. Eventually I figured the First Guest was still immobilized from the Chef's soup, and thanks to James's antics the Second Guest never had to do such a thing.

I may have been scared out of my wits, but as someone once said, “a cornered mouse will bite a cat.”

OK, enough of the dumb narration.

“W-Wait,” I protested, though given my throat was still dry, it wasn't very forceful. “I've eaten in the past twelve hours. Doesn't that mess up my... blood sugar readings or... something?”

“Now now, who's the medical professional here, hm~?” she shrugged off my argument with a giggle as she positioned herself beside the bed, raising the massive needle above her head. “Don't you worry, this won't hurt a bit~”

As she swung down, I made my move. While I was talking, I had taken hold of the top of my blanket. This was pretty much a complete leap of faith and I had no idea if it would work. I'd make a joke here about not caring if this failed because I'd be too busy being dead, but I'll be perfectly honest, I'm surprised I even had a cool enough head at the time to come up with what I did because I was rightfully scared out of my _freakin' mind_.

And what I did was that when the needle came down, I brought the blanket up, holding it tight like a drum skin. I had managed to tuck the other end of the blanket underneath my feet, probably during my earlier testing but I wasn't thinking too clearly at the moment. The end result was a woolen shield of sorts.

The tip of the needle, of course, cut through easily, but when it got to the body of the syringe, that part that actually held the blood being drawn, the blanket held fast, stopping the needle's swoop. And thank every deity out there that it did because _holy shit that tip is just like two centimeters away from my chest, was she aiming to draw from my heart or something?!_

“What the-?” I heard Catherine exclaim. She had stopped pushing down and was just holding it as she tried to process what just happened.

Acting on instinct, I made use of the lull to grab the needle tip and redirect it up and towards the wall. She immediately noticed and tried to jab down again, but by then it was no longer pointing at me and it ended up driving down into the bed between me and the wall, pinning the blanket to the bed.

At that point, all I could think was, “ _Run._ ”

As quickly as I could, I got out of the bed, scrambled to my feet, and I didn't care that I didn't have my shoes on as I bolted to the door. It only took a few moments for Catherine to extract the needle from the bed, by which I was already flinging the door open.

“Come back! You shouldn't be up and about yet!” she called out as I darted down the hallway as fast I could. I didn't know if she was following. I didn't care. I just wanted as much space between me and her as possible. But where was someplace I could run to that she wouldn't find me CRAP THE BANDAGE THE PAIN. I was slowed considerably by having to clench my stomach to try and slow the flow of blood coming from my wound. Well if she wasn't already on my trail, the line of blood splats on the floor would do that for her. How the hell was I gonna get out of this one...? I couldn't go back to my room, could I? Even if the door was there, would that even stop her? I didn't even have the key so I could lock it. Damn it, Gregory! I know what you really want to happen, but you don't have to make it so unfair!

“Quick, in here!”

A voice on my right. I turned to see a door was ajar. Not having another way out, I dove through and threw it shut behind me.

Right next to me was Angel Dog. “You looked like you were in real trouble, so I decided to save you,” she stated. “Back up a few paces, please.” I obliged and stepped back a couple steps. Her wand glowed as she waved it, and a small ball of light floated over to the door, which then vanished, leaving behind a stretch of wall that blended in with the wall surrounding it.

I held my breath as I heard running footsteps fade into audibility, which then stopped right outside where the door had disappeared. Probably looking at where the drops of blood had suddenly stopped. “No one can hide from Catherine~” she called out teasing. The footsteps resumed, until they faded away opposite of where they entered.

I started breathing. “T-Thank...” I started, only to stop when I felt the wetness on my arm. I looked down and emitted a sharp cry at the rather large amount of blood that covered the inside of my arm, my stomach, and the whole bottom of my shirt front, not to mention the small puddle of it forming at my feet. I've never liked the sight of blood and I almost immediately braced my arm closer, hoping the spread of red vital liquid would just _stop_ already...!

“Oh dear...” Angel Dog said in a sort of pitiful way. As in, pitying me. “Better let me help you with that.” In a manner that seemed both delicate and impatient at the same time, she pulled my arm away and pulled the front of my shirt up; I was still freaking out about the blood, so I couldn't resist. Once my wound was exposed (I don't know how to describe what it looked like, since I couldn't bear to look directly at it), she waved her wand again. Light shone for a brief moment, and when it subsided, blood had stopped coming out.

“I sped up your wound's healing and clotted it so it won't bleed anymore,” she explained as she reapplied the bandage (the side closest to the middle of my stomach had come off) and pulled my shirt back down. “You should be all healed up by noon tomorrow, but it's gonna leave a nasty scar once it's done. Keep the bandage on until then so it doesn't become infected.”

She hadn't cleaned up any of the blood that had already gotten out, but I still very much appreciated stopping any further from escaping. “T-Thank you,” I managed to eventually get out of my throat once it stopped choking. “Thank you for... for everything.”

I was interrupted when she put a finger under my chin and directed my gaze toward her. “This was just this once, OK?” Even though it was a question, it felt more like a statement. “Just this once~” Her bell-like voice paused for a moment while she gave the tip of my nose a quick playful tap with her wand and backed up a couple mid-air steps. “After all, I can't help you escape. All I can do is guide you. The rest is up to you~”

With that, she twirled and disappeared in her own flash of light, leaving me standing there in the dark room. I backed up a little when I realized I was still standing next to a puddle of my own blood in socked feet. My shoes were still in the infirmary, but my socks were fairly new and fairly thick and comfy, so as long as no one was leaving thumbtacks or something else like that lying around, I'd be able to hold on until I got my shoes back. Trying my hardest not to think about it, I cleaned the blood on my arm and stomach off as best I could onto my shirt, then tried to wring the shirt out over the puddle to minimize the mess. It was then I noticed there was a clear hole in my shirt that overlapped the bandage; of _course_ taking a bullet hole to the stomach would leave a bullet hole in the shirt, I thought after a moment. The end result was a lot less actual blood on me, but that stain would remain on my shirt for a long time (not to mention the occasional drops of blood on my socks from an undodged splash).

She had saved me just now, from Catherine's needle and from bleeding out and further infection. But I knew from the show that where Angel Dog guided someone depended on her mood that day. I had dived down the path she provided in desperation, not caring where it would ultimately lead. What mood was she in when she hid me from the nurse and healed my wound up? Where would this path take me, heaven or hell? Was it possible I could backtrack before I got too far?

And that is when I realized that before she left, she hadn't made the door reappear.


End file.
